


Chicken Pot Pie

by rambque



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boyfriends, Comfort, Cooking, M/M, Sapnap makes a good dinner, Weed mention, alcohol mention, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rambque/pseuds/rambque
Summary: Sapnap and Karl are on their sixth, well eighth-month anniversary. Sapnap has been promising Karl a nice dinner and there is never a better time than the present.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Kudos: 14





	Chicken Pot Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have written in a VERY long time so please leave feedback!

Sapnap looked up at the cabinet, the small tin box on the top shelf beckoning him. He glanced at the oven clock, not knowing why he even bothered to. The time was never reliable on that thing. He pulled down the box, the dust collected around it stirring with the motion of being lifted. Sapnap wrinkled his nose and swatted the air around him. The dust floated close to his face and he was just barely able to cover his mouth before sneezing. He swore and set the tin down, wiping his nose with the rough paper towel. Now, he just needed to find the damn recipe. He had promised Karl a while ago that we would make dinner for them at some point. Karl did the majority of the cooking since his house was the one that was almost always roommate-free. It was a space the two could have to themselves, doing whatever they pleased.

As of today, they had officially been dating for six months, but unofficially they were pushing eight. They weren’t planning on falling for each other. It was just small brushes of their hands as they walked next to each other between classes. It was small talk with glances on the lips that lingered too long from both of the men. Those two extra months of awkward flirting and eyes locking across the room. It was a night of drinking at a crowded party, the noise pulling and drawing the pair closer. It was one brief kiss, the taste of weed playing on the younger’s lips and tongue. One month of sneaking around with each other away from their friends to steal kisses and share kind words under hushed tones. That time without defining their relationship was a constant hell of secrets and fears of slipping up and revealing their secret. But here they were, six months after finally defining their relationship. Sapnap was finally able to get the apartment to himself, well, and the cat, with some bribery of his roommate. He was out about $100, but a nice dinner at home with Karl? That should definitely be worth it. 

He opened the fire engine red tin, the warped metal popping opened as he placed his thumb along the lip. When was the last time he had actually opened this? It must have been a year or two when he first left for college. These recipes contained everything from childhood meals to things his mother simply thought he would enjoy but never made. His mother had spent his whole life collecting her recipes and some plagiarized from home cooking magazines for him. He thumbed through the recipe cards. The light blue index cards were old and bent, the color yellowing with age. Sapnap squinted his eyes, pulling a card out of the box. Of course, they were written in cursive. He set the card down and took a minute to read it over. He smiled a bit and adjusted his headband, pushing his dark curls out of his face. Chicken pot pie. It’s easy enough and he made it with his mom hundreds of thousands of times when he was younger. 

Sapnap looked in the fridge and pulled out each ingredient he needed. Thankfully, he and Dream just went grocery shopping and there were actually good ingredients around the house. Sapnap rolled up his black long sleeves before washing his hands. The water came flowing out of the kitchen faucet with a soft whooshing noise, sputtering slightly before it found its consistent stride. He made sure the water was nice and warm before scrubbing between each finger. Underneath his breath, he counted each second. 

“Alexa? Turn on ‘WOOOO’ playlist on Spotify,” he requested from the large grey cylinder. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel, rolling the water off of his hands. She chimed, her blue halo of light turning on to signify her acknowledgment of Sapnap’s request. 

“Playing ‘WOOO’ on Spotify,” she echoed in her monotonous voice, the inflection of the words felt sterile and wrong. Sapnap laughed softly, her pronunciation of “wooo,” was always enough to bring a smile to his face. Alexa started to play more of a mellow song from the playlist, the soft bass vibrating the counter space around it. Sapnap pulled out the utensils he needed, including the large butcher knife. He set the recipe up against a can of coffee, reading it often. Sapnap carefully sliced the raw chicken. The cold sliminess of the flesh against his fingertips was foreign and unwelcomed. His nose wrinkled at the sensation and worked faster, wanting to switch to the vegetables as quickly as possible. 

Patches mewed up at him, smelling the chicken from her hidden spot in the apartment. She wrapped herself around his legs. The feline was vying for a taste of chicken from one of the men who spoiled her incessantly. Sapnap chuckled and took a small sliver of raw chicken and set it down on the floor for her. Patches immediately ate it, purring in content.

“Now, do not tell Dream missy,” he warned. Patches meowed in response, deciding to hover in case something else fell.

The stove clicked for a moment, protesting being used. Sapnap turned it off and tried again the burner now coming to life. He tossed the chicken into the lightly greased pan. He checked the heat and let the chicken simmer as he seasoned it. There was nothing special, just a dash of salt and pepper, a taste of poultry seasoning he found in the cabinet, and a little bit of cayenne pepper. He knew that he would ultimately add more to the roux, but for now, the little spice added would have to do. Sapnap cut the bright orange carrots into small discs and the celery into semi-circles. The onions were cut into small, concise squares to blend in easier. The recipe did call for green beans, but he quickly omitted them, favouring peas over the metallic tasting beans. Once he finished prepping them, he added them to the chicken with some butter, the fat popping due to the intense heat from the cast iron pan. He stirred them half-heartedly, glancing at the time once more. He mumbled along to the rap on the speaker.

He thought for a moment and opened the fridge, the air chilling and fog billowed out the top. Hopefully, they had some frozen biscuits or something to replace the pastry crust. Though, if he didn’t, it was his fault for not preparing beforehand. Yet, right there on top was a Ziploc bag of frozen dough. He took a deep breath, an unknown tension in his shoulders melting away as he pulled it out to defrost. He took great care setting them on to the cooking pan, deciding four small biscuits should be enough for both of them. He set the oven to preheat and checked the internal temperature of the chicken. Just right. He placed the chicken on the back burner so he could start the roux. Sapnap poured the milk, chicken stock, and flour into a second saucepan, warming them up. He stirred thoughtfully, scraping the film that would appear off the stop and mixing it back in. After a minute, he reduced the heat and added the roux into the chicken and vegetables. 

Sapnap stirred for just a moment, wanting the chicken to soak in the flavors. The little cayenne pepper he added tinted the sauce a soft pink color. It was barely noticeable but there enough to notice it in the correct light. He let it simmer, allowing the liquid to thicken up to the proper consistency. While that was finishing he added the biscuits to the timer. 

“Alexa set a timer for 15 minutes,” he requested of his robotic friend. She chimed back, starting the timer. Sapnap took a fork to the saucepan and dipped it in, stealing a taste. He made sure to get at least a tiny shred of chicken and vegetables, wanting to make sure the whole dish worked well together. The small taste he had transported him back to the first time he made this without his mother’s help. It was right when he moved in with Dream and was missing Texas just a little too much. Meals like this reminded him of a nice warm home surrounded by those you care about. He smiled and set the fork on the corner of the sink. It was nearly perfect with the rich, comforting flavor profile. Sapnap pulled out some ramekins and added them to the oven with only the remaining two minutes on the timer. 

Once the timer rang, the chiming denoting the meal was done, Sapnap took everything out of the oven and dished it up. He set the table with only the essentials: the meal, two glasses, two forks, and napkins. He never understood why some people did a full-place setting. Somehow, he would always end up not using some utensils and having to wash them anyway. At least Karl understood his hatred for wastefulness. Sapnap poured them each some water deciding that should be all he needed as the door cracked open. 

Karl poked his head in and beamed. “I hope that I’m not too late,” his bubbly voice rang out.

Sapnap looked at the older brunette as he walked into the apartment. He took a moment to admire his boyfriend. Karl was in a light purple knit sweater, complemented with a white button-down that peaked over the collar of the sweater. A small gold chain dangled over it. He was always immaculately dressed, even on their relaxed days. Karl set down a small black duffle bag by the tattered couch, reaching over to briefly great Patches who mewed in response.

“You’re just in time,” Sapnap promised, pulling out a chair for Karl, kissing his cheek as the older walked past him.

Karl smiled and took his seat. “So… chicken pot pie tonight?” he asked looking it over. 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay, Karl,” Sapnap said, shifting a bit before sitting down at the table. 

Karl reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. The rings on Karl’s finger reflected in the light. “It looks amazing Sapnap,” he reassured before sitting back in the chair. “I’m shocked Dream let us have the house tonight since normally we just go to mine.”

Sapnap laughed. “Well, it cost me $100 for Dream to take Mr. Gogy out to a nice dinner tonight. I couldn’t exactly come over and cook in your kitchen. Where would the romance be in that?” he joked, a smile effortlessly crossing his face. Karl laughed effortlessly, the sheer happiness carrying throughout the apartment. He covered his mouth with his free hand. He was always insecure about his laughing face, but Sapnap simply adored it. These moments were his favorite. He loved basking in the glory that is Karl Jacobs. His smile and his perfectly messy hair and his laugh. Karl Jacobs was enough. This was Sapnap’s joy.


End file.
